


"Summer Fling"

by My_Black_Crimson_Rose6



Series: Of Sex, Ink, and Skateboards [2]
Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: "Summer Flings", Almost Kiss, Alternate Universe - High School, Crushes, Dry Humping, Felix is actually a pretty good wingman but still a shithead, First Kiss, Flirting, Friends With Benefits, Hickies, Jealousy, Locus your crush is showing, M/M, Makeouts, Masturbation, Meeting the Sister, Pining, Playfull Wrestling, Prequel, Shirtless Washington... shirtless Washington EVERYWHERE!!, Skateboarding, Summer Vacation, Swearing, Underage Smoking, Vibrators, but that benefits thing is for the Lolix, hand holding, mentions of past bullying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-19
Updated: 2015-06-19
Packaged: 2018-04-05 04:07:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4165176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/My_Black_Crimson_Rose6/pseuds/My_Black_Crimson_Rose6
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Locus likes Washington. Wash likes Locus. They don't do anything; Felix has had enough of the cow-eyes and the wistful sighing.<br/>“Hey Locus, give blondie a hickey.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	"Summer Fling"

**Author's Note:**

> prequel to Drip, Drip, Drop.
> 
> Still need to do my next edit through but my brain just doesn't want to look at this anymore, so here enjoy :) 
> 
> The Underage tag is because they're teenagers.

Wash weaved their fingers together, holding on tightly as Locus began to walk and drag the skater behind him on his board. The wheels bumping over the lines in the cement, the sun bearing down on their shirtless forms as they made their way back to the park with slurpies in hand. The bright orange frozen beverage in Locus’ hands not his own but Felix who _demanded_ one but refused to leave his quarter pipe to get one.

They didn’t say much; they’d look at the other and smile shyly, like they knew something the other didn’t but they wouldn’t tell them. Wash had knocked his shoulder against Locus’ arm or ribs any and every chance he could on the way to the corner store. But they were on their way back—their dominate hands clutched together as Wash casually sipped on his rainbow drink.

He wouldn’t blush because of this; he won’t give it away so easily.

-

The blond laughed; hooped and hollered out the car window simply because he could. Felix joined in, screaming just for the sake of it at the poor saps having to walk home on the last day of school. They were all now _officially_ seniors—they _ruled the school_.

No more being a year younger, no more having those _assholes_ pat their heads and coo ‘oh you poor baby’. Felix had attacked one of them for that very reason and as much as Locus loved to see a repeat of the utter _defeat_ , he’d also rather never spend a solid month in detention again.

Washington leaned forwards, wrapping an arm around Locus and the car seat and squeezing. “I don’t know about you but I’m hardly going to be home this summer,” he releases the older teen from their embrace and leans up between the seats to flick on the radio.

“Yeah?” Felix pushed the blond back to the backseat, “and where exactly are you going to be lingering, blondie-locks?” The seatbelt dug into his shoulder as he turned suddenly back to throw one of his signature grins to the back.

“Skate-park, Caboose and Tucker have all but claimed that that’s all we’ll be doing this summer and I honestly couldn’t have it any other way. You and your lot are more than welcome to chill,” Wash shrugged catching Locus’ eye in the mirror and smiling when their gazes lingered.

“Sure,” Locus replied before turning the radio up louder when a decent rock song came on over the speakers.

-

Caboose was never the most graceful of people. He often tripped over his own feet and would apologize profusely when he’d bump into people. But as soon as you gave him any type of skate—ice or roller—he was _beautiful_ , a thing of solid grace. He had taken figure skating with his sisters growing up, loved every moment of it, and while he lowly feel out of love for the competition of it all he loved nothing more than feeling the accomplishment of landing that jump or sliding out of that twirl.

So every day Caboose would tie his laces to his rollerblades and skate out to the skate-park and meet up with Tucker, Washington and every so often Church would be out in the mornings before he’d leave with his long-time girlfriend. Those were always the best days. They’d be out there shortly before noon, laughing loudly when either Wash or Tucker would slip off their skateboard and slide down one of the ramps on their butts.

After the sun reached the highest point in the sky two cars would pull up in the parking lot, their music blaring and Wash’s face would go goofy—Caboose would say it was like how his Mom looked at some of her favorite actors in her favorite movies (the ones that would make her cry happy tears). He’d jog over to one of the cars, wiping the sweat from his brow with the ends of his shirt.

Felix would step out first, a smoke already hanging from his lips. Locus would turn off the engine and the radio in that car would go quiet when Locus and the guys in the backseat would step out. Caboose thinks their names are Zachary and Jackson. The other car always being driven by a guy named Sam (Caboose likes Sam, he would help him sometimes in math back in ninth grade), but the others’ names never really stuck with Caboose.

He’d linger around them for awhile, stepping from one foot to the other. Caboose would get bored after that, going back to his skating as Tucker muttered about how much he hated Locus and Felix—Caboose could never understand _why_ he didn’t like them. They never really talked to them much.

Felix would claim ownership of one of the quarter pipes and would kick the board away from Tucker every time he’d try to go near but he’d let Caboose and Wash (and Felix’s friends) use it. Maybe Felix just doesn’t like Tucker—but well, Caboose kinda… didn’t really like Tucker either. Tucker could be kinda mean, but sometimes he was nice so sometimes Caboose liked him.

So Caboose could _understand_ where Felix was coming from.

-

Some nights Locus would linger around longer with Washington.

They’d perch on the quarter pipe that Felix claimed as his, the rebel’s orange and gray tag under their shoes as they sat there in the dark. A bottle of water behind their hands, fingers weaved together as they stared up into the dark night. All the light from the city polluting the skyline until there were no stars able to be seen.

They could hear the cars driving by on the other side of the park, passed the Locus’ parked car. Some nights they’d pass a joint between their fingers, between their lips. There’d be an extra tingle with the high, the thought of the other teen’s lips pressed against theirs.

Some nights they’d sit in a comfortable silence with nothing more than the flick and light of Locus’ cigarettes catching and he’d suck in a drag. Sometimes Wash adjust and curl his sweat cooled, naked, chest against Locus’ equally sweat cooled and _naked_ chest. Their shirts beside them in case they ever decide to slip them back over their heads.

Some nights they’d talk softly between each other; a comment here, a comment there. Never really needing to be answered or replied to. Locus would mention that he helped his sister out with her early morning dance classes, Wash would bring up the fact that he wanted to bring and make a lunch for everyone one day (so they wouldn’t have to buy one).

Some nights they’d look at each other and lean in until their foreheads pressed. They’d lean in until their noses bumped and their eyes closed.

Some nights they’d slowly pull away as if nothing happened; ignore the flush on the other’s face as they turned away. They ignored it thinking that it was all just a trick; a trick in lighting or of their own brains.

Every night they’d leave thinking that the next day—the next night would be _that night_. They’d finally kiss and suddenly the past however long their crush (for Locus it was since ninth grade, and for Washington he _knew_ for certain that he was crushing on the teen that Halloween that just passed) was made all that much sense. That the world would stop and they’d see those cliché fireworks and the butterflies in their stomach would explode from their stomachs and fly south for the winter together.

-

Tucker wanted nothing more than to just tell those assholes off, tell them to hang out somewhere else that summer—away from him, away from their skatepark and away from Washington. Every time he’d grind his teeth Felix would grind all the wider, would get all friendly with Wash or would get _Locus_ to get all friendly with the blond.

And that was always the worst. It was sickening watching the two flirt and _blush_ at each other. To see them touch and press against each other. It only worsened when they’d lean in, Tucker cursing every God in his vocabulary, and break from the path before their lips could meet. Each time Tucker felt like praying—thanking those Gods he just called upon.

“Oh come on!” Washington laughed; the radio from someone’s car blasting some station pop song, the blond had lost his shirt long ago. His shirt was always quickly lost after _the assholes_ made an appearance; Wash’s freckled skin on display for all to take in. He took hold of Locus’ hand; turning and pulling the taller teen flushed against his back and started to sway. Knees bent and ass pressed to Locus’ upper legs (because he was just that tall), Wash _ground_ back against him. His naked back pressing to an equally naked chest, Locus’ hands quickly finding Wash’s hips and guiding him along with the beat blasting through the speakers.

Zachary whistled, hollering at the two grinding against each other in the middle of the half pipe while the rest passed around their collections of beverages and crap food. Tucker ground his teeth together when Locus whispered something in Wash’s ear and the blond blushed, laughing the comment off. Though he took hold of the hands on his hips and continued to rock with him.

-

Locus and Felix always had all these… _rings_ on. Ever since Wash first met them they’ve always had a collect of rings on their fingers—Felix always had the large collection. Locus had these dark metal bands wrapped around his fingers that would catch and glimmer a plethora of colours when the light hit it just so.

So one evening, sitting cramped onto Tucker’s lap in the backseat of Locus’ car Wash slipped the ring from the teen’s index finger off when he was handing something back to Zachary who sat behind the driver seat. Wash had wrapped his fingers around the teen’s after Zachary took the offered bottle of water from him; it was quick, hardly any forcing involved to get the ring to slip from his finger and quickly onto Washington’s left middle finger.

“Hey,” Locus turned, tone challenging until his gaze dropped to his ring around Washington’s finger and he _stared_. Stalling on the gears shifting in his head and remaining undecided as to just where it should shift to—should it shift up, continue with the ‘fight’ or should he down shift, falling back to a comfortable silence.

Locus turned back around when Felix slapped his arm, “green light asshole, let’s go!” The teen groaned, throwing his middle finger up and out the window when the car behind them honked. “Oh shut the fuck up!” Felix called back, and the car peeled away.

Tucker shoved the teen in his lap and Wash grinned back at him, fingers twirling the ring embracing his finger. It was a welcome weight, felt _proper_ , like it’s meant to have been there the whole time. “Shove off Tucker, my ass isn’t bony,” he rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to the rearview mirror—catching Locus’ gaze yet again and _smiling_.

Caboose, lost in his own thoughts, continued watching the world pass by through the window.

\--

He reached out; snagging hold of three of the white boy’s fingers and tugging him flush against his chest. Locus fiddled with his own ring still wrapped around the teen’s finger even a day later. “This is mine,” he stated, turning the band and it began to slip.

Washington lurched, “hey now!” he exclaimed pushing back with a solid press of his palm against the taller teen’s gut. He took a step back, fingers still trapped in Locus’ grip, and Locus followed. Their converse and Van covered feet scuffing against the half pipe they were currently on. The blond’s board kicked off, away from frame as Wash _giggled_.

“So difficult,” Locus rolled his eyes not minding a single bit of this show—a dance more than anything else. Wash would step back and Locus would follow; the blond was leading, allowing the other direct him all the same though it was still _his show_.

Washington’s grin made his stomach flip, his breath catch and suddenly he had an armful of the blond teen. Naked chest pressing against his and legs wrapping around his waist while an arm snuck around his neck. His laughter like bells in his ears, cheek pressing against his and it was like _heaven and hell_ all at once—the joy, the warmth of having the other male’s body pressed against his and their sweat drenched skin sliding against each other as they play fought. It was hell; complete and utter hell when Locus pressed the teen back against the ramp and pressed his body down on top of his. He bit back a groan when his crotch pressed against Washington’s leg, his hips already rolling instinctively.

Locus turned as Wash’s hand weaved its way through his hair turning his face towards the freckled one. _Fuck_ , Locus remembers thinking when their noses bumped together; _fuck this is a lame first kiss_. And after years of dreaming of sticking his tongue past that row of white pearly teeth and fucking him into his mattress, Locus kinda _wanted_ some sappy cliché first kiss between them. Somewhere else other than on the halfpipe at the skatepark.

“Hey fuckface!” It wasn’t a kiss, a hair of a breath between their lips keeping them apart before Locus snarled and turned to the teen shouting at him. “Some of us don’t exactly want to see people fuck on the ramps!” Tucker huffed, using his discarded shirt to mop the sweat from his brow.

Locus pushes himself up and off the blond beneath him. He wants to knock Tucker’s teeth in; one by one. And anger that he spots in Washington’s face shows just how much he was onboard with that plan as well—Wash sighed, pushing himself up after him and he quickly slipped the ring off his finger. “Here, this is yours.”

His tone broke him; gut clenching, anger simmering into something with more _poison_. He shook his head, “keep it for now.” Locus took Wash’s hand in his and then the ring and quickly slipping the band back around Washington’s middle finger. “Felix and I are going to his cottage for a week; take care of it for me.”

Wash’s blue-gray eyes softened, that ghost of a smile gracing his features once more. He agreed, finally stepping out of Locus’ space and collected his board long forgotten before now.

\--

They don’t talk about it.

Felix does.

Felix doesn’t _shut up_ about it, even when Locus is fucking him. He doesn’t let him live it down when he moans out David’s name either, doesn’t let him live it down when Felix is flirting with a group of girls. He lets it slip that Locus has a _boyfriend back home_ that doesn’t like to share.

He doesn’t sleep with Felix for awhile after that comment.

Every time he closes his eyes all he sees David Washington, feels his breath against his lips and his chest pressed against his. He can feel his hands against his skin; can feel it in his, can feel it against his chest. From there he can picture them running lower, over his stomach and against the trimmed short hair encircling the base of his dick. He can picture those pale white fingers wrap around his cock, the water only helping the tug and slide over his prick.

He could picture the breathless whispers that he lets out in the shower aren’t his own. He can pretend that its David Washington moaning out for release; can picture his head bowing back and pressing against the shower tiles as he comes undone.

Locus could pretend all he wants; he could continue to pretend for another couple of years. As much as he pretends it still won’t rid himself of the memory of Washington’s breath mingling with his or that he wears his ring on his finger.

This summer was going to kill him; being so close to him yet unsure if Washington would want him— _date him_.

He didn’t want a fuck; he had casual fucks with Felix and with people at parties.

He _wanted_ David Washington.

Wanted to whisper stupid cliché love lyrics into his ear and kiss his cheek. He wanted to hold his hand and tug him around by it while he was boarding. He wanted to go past the city limits, until he could see the stars, and categorize them all with him. He wanted to be able to kiss him in the pouring rain and kiss him against the lockers when school started again. He wanted to run his hands through that wheat blond hair and see that smile—fuck he _loved_ that smile.

\--

Wash wasn’t pouting, he wasn’t. He just wasn’t exactly the most chipper now that Locus and Felix weren’t around. For days he kept twirling that damn ring around his finger, he kept skating with Tucker and Caboose and sometimes Church would show up before Tex would stop in. She stop and chat with Washington for a bit; catching up with the youngest out of their ‘Freelancer’s.

It was always short, never more than an hour, before Tex and Church would leave on her motorcycle and it was back to the three of them. When they’d stop to take a break from the sun overhead, they crawl up onto Felix’s claimed quaterpipe and crack jokes—Caboose would ask some strangling philosophical question that would send them into a silence as they thought about it.

Sometimes Tucker would make a comment about some hot girl in their graduating class that would go over both their heads and Wash would have to remind him again that ‘ _Tucker I’m gay_ ’ and Tucker would only grin and proceed to make a comment about some hot _guy_ instead—that too would go over both of their heads.

Some nights when he got home he’d be greeted to pictures on his phone of Locus and Felix. Felix’s grin too knowing; that guy knew almost everyone’s dirty secrete (if not all of them then at least _most_ of them). Sometimes he’d get a text to answer to though more often than not it was only pictures.

Pictures that he’d save before tucking his phone under his pillow bashfully and forget about them until his parents went to bed. He’d forget about them until the dead of night, when he had his music loud enough to cover his noises but not loud enough to wake his parents. He’d forget about them until he went digging through his closet to pull out the _gift_ he got from South and C.T that served as both his Christmas and Birthday present—a bright, canary yellow, vibrator—that they gave him shortly after the start of eleventh grade when they learned that Maine and he had broken up. “Here to help you deal with the loss,” South can snickered.

Honestly though, best gift ever. Couldn’t have asked for something better (he has it in good favor that they sending him a dildo of a matching colour for this birthday/Christmas), it has been put to good use since he first got it. Been to put good use even now; now as he shed from his boxers and worked a lubed covered finger into his hole.

Pulling his phone from under his phone and flipping through the pictures until he found it; Locus sitting in the sand, dark brown hair pulled back and into a ponytail, in nothing put a pair of swim shorts with his toes in the surf. He wanted nothing more than to run his hands through that hair, pressing kisses to his sharp angular nose or to his brow.

Wash panted, pulling both fingers out of him and lubing up the vibrator. His gut tightened when he slowly began to push it in—in and a shallow outwards pull before pushing it further in. He moaned, keened and whimpered until he found his prostate—breath catching, eyes rolling back and he clenched his hand around the base of his cock as he turned it on.

He’s learned, learned what felt the best—what _wrecked him_ the quickest. This was always what did it; the diving straight in, no hold back. There was no one but him here, no one but him to hear him moan out Locus’ name or to see his body twitch and vibrate. No one to see him gasping for breath or clawing at his sheets, no one to see him cum all over himself and work himself into the point of over stimulation—he wanted to cum once more.

He _needed to cum_ again, his dream kept going. It kept going as his mental image of Locus pressed open mouthed kisses against his throat, over his chest as he continued to thrust into him. He needed to keep the image alive as he pictured the older teen whisper the sappiest things in his ear and he’s _sob_ , whining out Locus’ name again and again every time he could catch his breath.

When he was finally able to cum again Washington _cried_ , tears falling from his eyes at the overstimulation. He shed a tear when all he had to cuddle up to afterwards were his pillows and his phone with the picture of the teen still open.

\--

**Locus:** _On way back home now._

**Washington:** _:D_

**Locus:** _Bored?_

**Washington:** _a little. Its weird not having u guys there for a week after spending everyday w/ u_

**Washington:** _have fun tho?_

**Locus:** _Eh. Rather have been at home. Felix was being a douche_

**Washington:** _when is he not?_

**Locus:** _touché_

\--

It was like they never left, like it was Wash and Locus and Felix sitting out on the quaterpipe for the past week. A cigarette dangling from Felix’s lips as he stared at the two to his right; he grinned. “Hey Locus, give blondie a hickey.” He could’ve grinned when the cigarette between Locus’ lips dropped and rolled down the ramp, “you heard me assholes, I’ve always wanted to see what blondie here looks like all decorated up!”

Locus stared at him in disbelief; _what the hell are you doing?_

Felix grinned, knuckles knocking against his arm; _giving you a push. Trust me on this one thing_.

Wash huffed, running a hand through the front of his hair and brushing it back. “Fuck it,” he laughed catching the attention of both Felix and Locus. He grinned, shrugging and then rolled his shoulders. “Don’t laugh if I moan,” he ran his hand down his neck and hooking a finger into the collar of his loose low-neck tank top and pulled it over his head.

Locus followed the movement, a swallow of the access spit gathering in his mouth, and bit the inside of his cheek when Washington _fucking crawled_ in his _lap_. His hands finding the belt loops of the blond’s baggy shorts and pulling him in closer—he was on autopilot, working off muscle memory alone as his brain counted the freckles on his neck. Locus nosed at Washington’s jaw, almost groaning on how easy he gave under just a light prod, before pressing a kiss to the tight collection of freckles that has recently blossomed over the skin.

His eyes closed when he felt one of Wash’s arms wrap around his shoulders, could feel the swallow when he pressed his tongue to the tanned flesh and sucked. Working the flesh with tongue, teeth and suction he could _feel_ the vibrations in the blond’s throat. Could feel them again when he left another an inch lower, by the third one Washington’s hips were bunking and he could hear his breathing heavily.

“Locus,” he sucked a mark onto David’s shoulder, “Locus, Felix left.” And the only thought Locus could formulate was; _good_. He kissed and licked at the freckles, biting at the bone of his collar and kissed a track back up his neck. David moaned and his fingers weaved into the thick of Locus’ tied up hair, gripping tight and pulling the teen towards him. “Ear,” he panted tilting the offered body part for Locus to take into mouth.

His teeth knocked against the stud in the blond’s ear, his tongue ring clicking against it as he liked up the shell. He ground up against David, “fuck you’re hot,” he wasn’t thinking. Pulling a Felix and running his mouth, whispering things he might regret when he wasn’t thinking with his dick. His hands left the safety of the teen’s shorts and slid up his back, “so hot.” He pressed a kiss to his cheek, to his brow, to his eyelid then to his nose. “Can I kiss you? Please.” He wouldn’t admit it, wouldn’t admit to whining it out—begging.

“Please, ye-yeah. Please, please.” David whispered back and their lips pressed. Locus was in love—love with the smell of him, the feel of him, the taste of him still on his tongue. He tasted of summer, of heat—sweat too, but fuck he just wanted him more. They pulled away without ever opening their mouths, eyes fluttering open—just looking, searching the pool of gray-blue and green. “Again,” he whispered and again their lips met.

Washington’s knuckles tracing Locus’ jaw before joining the other hand he still had tangled in his hair, pulling the hair tie and rolling it down his wrist. He followed the pull, the guide back to lay against the ramp, feeling the teen’s chest press against his. They kissed again and again before finally giving in and falling to wandering hands and turning to open mouthed kisses.

Their tongues met and Washington could swear he saw fireworks, like the world spinning around him and his back was pressed against the ramp and Locus’ hair was like a curtain around them. Hiding them away late at night, just them and that skatepark, that quaterpipe with Felix’s tag painted on it.

Locus was pulling off his shirt and Wash moaned into the next kiss, hands grabbing at everything he could. He didn’t want it to end, didn’t want the summer to end and for them to go back to the lingering touches, the unknowing if this had any feeling behind it other than lust. Washington didn’t want it to end as he wrapped his legs around Locus’ waist and panted, hissing when he bit at his shoulder and sucked another mark onto his skin.

“I don’t want this to end,” he whispered against the other male’s lips when they ground their covered lengths against each other. Locus caught his lower lip between his teeth and sucked, pulling out with a soft smile crinkling the corner of his eyes.

“Then it won’t.”

\--

He lied.

A cop showed up and they bolted before either could cum in their pants.

\--

The woman wrapped an arm around her brother’s neck, “tell about this bruise right here, Lo.” She poked at the darker skin high on his neck; she had never seen Locus with a hickey before even though she was _well aware_ of his sexual relationship with his best friend—you walk in on your brother and his best friend fucking once and all of a sudden _it all makes sense_.

“None of your business,” he shot back, shrugging out of her hold and standing from the couch to add extra room between them. She shot a look at Felix who snickered.

“He has this huge crush on _David Washington_ and it’s sickening, I’m sick of watching him flounder around him—not doing it for another year. Either fuck him and get it out of your system of _date him_. Fuck,” Felix grinned, all teeth and bite, up at the two siblings and the woman hummed.

“I know that name from somewhere,” the woman pondered, falling over the back of the couch and into the cushions. “Where do I know that name from?”

“Maybe you heard him jacking off to him—oh David! Fap, fap fap. David, oh fuck~” Felix exclaimed, throwing his head back, head rolling side to side as his mimicked the universal jacking off hand motion. “Oh _David!_ ” his voice pitching up drastically and breaking off into a loud cackle as the taller male tackled him, punching him in the gut and arms.

\--

Wash met Locus in ninth grade, back when he was short and clumsy and… well, he wasn’t happy with himself. He didn’t feel confidant or happy with how he looked. He knows he has a crooked grin; that one side of his mouth stretches up higher than the other. He knew that his ears looked too big and the fact that he had to pierced on drew more attention to them—he liked his studs and they helped calm him down when he’d twirl them between thumb and forefinger. He knew he was just some dumb freshmen with gangly limbs. 

Everyone openly claimed that he had _got hot_ that summer, met Maine and the Freelancers and was adopted into the senior’s clique.

Sometimes it hurt to be reminded that he was known as that clumsy with that big dump grin—he had no friends before joining that drama club. Had felt Locus’ eyes lingering on him that whole time; all the while as Felix laughed at him, all the while as they’d walk by him in the halls and everyone would pair up for projects in class.

It was pointless thinking back on who he was before—only bitterness and a lingering pain and loneliness would greet him.

Little young David Washington, just discovering that he liked (and _only_ _liked)_ boys had thought many of his classmates attractive—found subtle differences in their faces that he liked, what he didn’t. It only added fuel to the classic teenaged angst when two of the (numerous of) guys he found attractive only saw him as something to laugh at (or in one of their cases he’d scoff and smirk).

But now…

Washington stood in front of his mirror, pressing his fingers into one of the numerous hickies on his neck—this was real and yes he was crushing on Locus. Yes, yes he did like him. Yes, this was real and yes Locus _kissed him first_.

Years; it only took a couple of years and a few punches to Felix’s face (and also getting hit by a car two separate times) to have things turning up David Washington. “Fuck I’m a mess,” Washington whispered to himself as he took in more of the bruises and bite marks.

\--

Tucker had huffed the whole way over, board underfoot as the two boarders kept pace with Caboose. “Why are we even agreeing to go over to Locus’ place?” he had been in a pissing mood ever since Wash went over to his place and grabbed him, his eyes lingering over the hickies fashion statement—he didn’t mention anything about it.

“Because it’s the middle of a heat wave and no one wants to be outside today. Plus, he has AC.” Washington shot back, smiling more to himself when Tucker agreed ( _again_ ) and they continued on with only an occasional bitch about the heat.

They arrived at the number that Locus provided; his, Sam’s, and two other cars parked in the driveway and Washington’s gaze lingered at the dirt and dust on the side of Locus’ car. He grinned to himself and made kicked up his board, tucking it under in arm before running his forefinger through the dirt on driver’s door.

**Locus Washington or David Reyes?**

He wanted to see his reaction but knew better than to stick around and wait. Knew better than to comment when he walked up the front steps to the door where Locus held it open with a quizzical brow raised. “Hey, humidity’s a bitch. Ain’t it?” he piped up instead and Locus wrapped an arm around his shoulders and tugged him into the AC, into his chest as he closed the door behind him and pinned him back against it.

“What did you write?”

Wash’s grin grew, “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he pushed his way out of his grip, away from the hands and the space between his arms—before they lost track of time again, before he left with more marks on his neck and shoulder. His heart pounded wildly in his chest, stomach fluttering –he wanted Locus to ask him out, _ask me out asshole_ , because he wouldn’t do it. He didn’t know just _what_ Locus wanted from this; did he want a fuck (he was more than willing for that too), did he want a relationship (that’s what Wash wanted), did he just want to take his time and figure it out for himself?

A shout between Tucker and Felix brought them from their own world, brought them out of it long enough to sigh and glance towards the door leading to the basement. “I don’t want to go down there,” Locus sighed, closing the door with a soft click and only continued down the hall. “Drink?”

Washington trailed after him, reaching for the other teen’s hand a catching two of his fingers—Locus huffed, linking _all_ their fingers together, and pulling him along. Past the small group of women gathered around on the living room couches catching up on that warm Saturday afternoon in August.

“You’re new,” one of the women’s voice made both Locus and Washington halt in the middle of the archway opening. “Are you _David_?” She was beautiful, all long legs and wide hips. Well over six feet tall and with long dark brown wavy hair cascading down her back—and the eyes. The same striking green that Locus had.

The hairs on the back of his neck rose at the name, how it was said gave way that she _knew_ something that he didn’t. He hated his given name, hated how nothing… pleasant ever followed. “Everyone calls me either Washington or Wash,” he smiled, turning to the group of women with his signature grin.

“O _ooh look!_ He has dimples!” another cooed, bringing her beverage up to her lips to cover her grin.

The first woman eyed the dark purple marks up his throat, the one lone hickey that was seen through the V-collar of his t-shirt and smirked. “It’s nice to finally meet Locus’ _boyfriend_ , I’m his sister Rea,” both Wash and Locus flustered at the word; Washington, blushing from shoulders to hairline refused to glance up from his socked covered toes.

“Oh _shut up_ Rea,” Locus hissed acting exactly like the little brother that he was, wrapping his arm around Wash’s middle and guiding him away from his sister and her friends. “You and Felix, I swear.”

Rea giggled, “awww Locus! It’s just because we know what buttons to press.” She continued to call after him even when they slunk out of view, “make sure you actually go check on your buddies in the basement before Felix and that other kid start fighting. So no sex, you hear?”

Locus muttered profanities under his breath, a language that Washington was familiar with but never could understand it. “Were we going to have sex?” Wash couldn’t help but ask, his ears still coloured bright like a ripe fruit.

“I,” Locus licked his lips, glancing down at his blond haired companion. “I was actually just hoping to make-out a bit, but—”

Wash shook his head, “kissing’s good—great even, yeah. No, that’s what I was… kinda, well, hoping for?” he grinned bashfully running a hand through his hair, pushing the longer strands back that stuck to his forehead. Locus smirked, nodding towards the hallway to their right—Wash raised a brow, continuing their silent conversation and only breaking from it when Locus proceeded to lead him towards his room.

\--

Felix left that night with a spring in his step and a shit-eating grin on his lips—and it was not because he had just gotten laid. No, Locus was still withholding sex from him after the fact that he went and moaned David Washington’s name in the middle of their fucking (because that’s all it was. All it would ever be. Locus _loved_ Wash; Felix loved his freedom to fuck whomever he wanted. They were friends who at times fucked because it was easier than going out and finding someone else to fuck).

Rea grinned at her brother sitting on the couch opposite to her, a hand running through his hair. “You like this David, don’t you?” Her eyes softening around the corners when he sighs and nods his answer in the positive. “Tell me about this kid. Let’s hear about the guy that captured your heart.”

She could’ve laughed at his blush, the way he couldn’t look at her—the way he hid beneath his hair. Papa would’ve loved it all, would’ve taken the seat next to him and urged him on. He had done that with her, had wrapped an arm around her shoulders and told her about what (and when) he noticed about his wife (and Rea’s mother) first, what he fell in love with. He’d ask her to tell her about this crush of hers, if she could write poetry about their features.

“He’s gorgeous, Rea, unbelievably so.” How he says it, how he sighs and his lips turn up in the barest hint of a smile makes her think of Papa when he’d talk about Mom. “You should see him smile, _shit_ ,” he laughs then. Breathless—hopeless really, it tugs at her heart and she can’t help but lean forward for it. “It lights the room up, absorbs it from everywhere else until only that grin of his remains.” He looks at her then, finally looking up from his hands. “Makes everything stand out—his gray-blue eyes, his freckles.”

His sigh makes her question, “freckles?”

And he laughs; _he’s in love_. Oh, _oh her little brother is in **love**_.

“They’re everywhere; all over his face, his neck, on his arms and legs, even his fingers. And the sun is only bringing more out on his back and chest—shit,” he’s losing his ability to form coherent sentences that aren’t broken off with a curse or a love-struck grin. “I feel like such a _creep_ in class, counting the freckles on the back of his neck.”

She urged him on; had him tell her what he liked, what he didn’t like—what would destroy him to see lost. “That smile,” it was brought back to his smile, to his laugh—to his _personality_ of all things. She was the one that had to get him to talk about David’s appearance, had to get him talking about what else he noticed about David that wasn’t his smile, or freckles, or his laugh.

 _It’s the way his wheat blond hair goes almost golden in the light_.

 _It’s the way he bites at his lips and wiggles with fingers without even noticing_.

 _It’s the way he brushes a hand through his hair then realizes what he just did and has to fix it again_.

_It’s the way that he blushes; that it roams up and in towards his cheeks._

_It’s the way that he can go from bashful to **total fucking flirt** in a blink_.

She had him talking for two solid hours; two solid hours of him talking about a boy she had never met. Papa would’ve been proud, so very proud of his boy. Mom too. They’d hug him and coo at him—press their hands to his face and tell him to invite this boy over for dinner.

\--

There were hands on either side of his face; pulling him in, holding him closer— _keeping him there_. Lips and teeth and tongue, all he could hear was them swapping spit and their rustling clothes. Wash wrapped his arms around his waist, holding the taller teen against him. It was just the slide of lips; the press of them against his, the feeling of them against his cheek and nose and eyelids.

“You’re beautiful,” Locus whispered before kissing him again, back the blond up until he pressed him to his dresser. “But you _know_ that,” he hissed out again between kisses, between the slide of tongues and clash of teeth when they’d tilt their heads in an attempt to plunge their tongues in further.

Washington was happy with this—he could _handle_ this, having him for the moment even if it didn’t become anything more. If it just went back to what it was before. He could go back to the flirting and the gazes, he can go back to that. He had the memory of this summer, had the memory of Locus’ lips on his to feed him.

He pushed him back, leading him away from dresser and back towards the middle of the room. “Catch,” he breathed, jumping up and wrapping both his arm and legs around Locus. He caught him, hands planted firmly on his ass. They were kissing again—they could _stop_ kissing.

Locus wasn’t sure; wasn’t sure if this meant something more to Wash. He wasn’t sure if he wanted _more_ than this summer fling. He wasn’t sure, not yet—he wouldn’t be sure nearly a year of continued flirting and the blond watching his lips as he talked. He wouldn’t be sure until they had sex at that party, in that bathtub, for the first time.

Locus wasn’t sure what Washington wanted but he wasn’t about to turn this down—wasn’t about to stop tasting him, kissing him. Felling his body against him; wasn’t about to stop when he could feel the other’s hardened cock pressed against his stomach when Locus fell back into his bed. He wasn’t about to stop even though his own prick was pressed against Wash’s ass.

“Just kissing,” Washington reminded both of them when he ground back against the dick pressed against his ass.

“Just kissing,” Locus replied with a squeeze of the freckled teen’s ass.


End file.
